VIII. Italy. MY SON, KEEP THY FATHER'S COMMANDMENT, AND FORSAKE NOT THE LAW OF THY MOTHER: WHEN THOU GOEST, IT SHALT LEAD THEE; WHEN THOU SLEEPEST, IT SHALL KEEP THEE; AND WHEN THOU AWAKEST, IT SHALL TALK WITH THEE. "I KNOW Abraham, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment, that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which he hath spoken of him." It was the Searcher of hearts that said it; and Sarah's reverence, Isaac's meek obedience, and Eliezer's devout fidelity, proved to men what the Lord knew beforehand by looking on Abraham's heart. No doubt Eli gave good instruction, and set a good example to his children. But this was not enough; something more is necessary. It is a father's command, a father's authority, felt at all times, and interposed as occasion may demand, that gives effect to a mother's influence. It is his to command, and hers to frame for her children the law of love. His part of the work is periodic, hers is perpetual. If she be successful in her endeavours, a father will not so often be required to command, as to approve and to commend. Ought she not likewise sometimes to administer the needed correction, seeing she has so many opportunities of shewing affection, and thus prevent the idea of severity from being associated with a father's rule? How many wise men-senators, pastors, and busy merchants-have not been ashamed to confess that while they themselves were guides to thousands, it was a sainted mother's law remembered that still was leading them. Most memoirs attest this. Yet there is a class among mothers who are nevertheless apt to despond. They have long been sufferers; the spring of life within them is grown so brittle that it might snap at any moment and surprise be felt by none. An exhausted frame and feeble nerves seem not only to paralyse a mother's present control over her child, but to predict that not long hence it must pass into other hands. But there is enough in God's word and the Church's story to silence her fears. Before the middle of last century two young mothers died in the south of England, leaving each a boy under seven years old. The one was Cowper. His poem to his mother's picture shews where the friendless orphan-the victim so often of mental gloom, found his sweetest solace till he learned to seek it in the light of Immanuel's countenance. Had his mother known all Cowper was to suffer, she might well have trembled for her boy; but she left him in the hand of One who ever walked with him in the furnace, and taught his lacerated soul thence to send forth music which has charmed the midnight of many of the mourners in our country. The path of sorrow, and that path alone, The other young mother left her boy to the care of a stern sailor father, who had been brought up in the Jesuit College at Seville. For two years previous to her death, the child had been able to read and repeat perfectly all the Assembly's Catechism with proofs, as well as Watts' hymns. Yet any one who did not know about a prayer-hearing God would have said, at seeing the boy taken from amidst wicked street-companions and put on board of a Mediterranean mer Beautiful Zion. AIR-Beautiful Venice. BEAUTIFUL Zion! city renown'd, Through the universe wide, thy praise shall resound, The beautiful city, Zion the free. Beautiful Zion! the hope of thy rest Is a balm for the weary and sorrow-bound breast; For ever the song of the Saved shall resound; To dwell in the city, mine may it be, The beautiful city, Zion the free. Beautiful Zion! desire of the earth, Nor sorrow, nor sighing, in thee shall have birth; Thy rivers of pleasures eternally roll, Anointing with gladness each blood-ransomed soul; To dwell in the city, mine may it be, The beautiful city, Zion the free. Cannes, 1850. A. S. |